


Good Father

by Omniblacklight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fooling the Neighbors, Gen, Good Father, Good Son, I was compelled by some strange force to write this, Model Father/Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:16:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omniblacklight/pseuds/Omniblacklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is JOHN EGBERT and there is BLOOD EVERYWHERE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Father

Your name is JOHN EGBERT and there is BLOOD EVERYWHERE. 

 

 

  
Tonight you were supposed to be over at Dave's chilling, gaming, pranking him and listening as he attempted to teach you how to rhyme on spot. Instead Bro came home reeking of booze and with a girl under each arm. Dave had asked you to come up with some excuse to leave, he really didn't want you to have to deal with this and looked embarrassed enough as it was.

 

  
It's already across a good two feet of blue carpeting and all the way to the white linoleum of the kitchen pools of scarlet turned dark, soaking into the carpet like water to a  thirsty houseplant turning the blue into a dirty brown. There were splatters on the walls here and there, a footprint or two, and on the floor in the kitchen one of Dad's favorite cake mixing bowls, the blue one that matched your eyes with the white stripe around the base. There was a crack along the side of it. The cake mix spilled on the ground had not been mixed properly at all, an egg with a miraculously unbroken yolk slithering out into the puddle of blood beside the counter.

 

  
There was a particularly large splatter here.

 

  
Holding the bowl in your hands you feel that fluttering nostalgia, remembering Dad with this bowl in the crook of his arm, whistling as he stirred at it, unaware that you were hiding behind dining room chair watching him. You liked to watch him bake sometimes. He never whistled around you, maybe he was shy about it or thought you'd think him silly.

 

  
You throw the bowl in the trash.

 

  
The clock on the oven reads 23:30.

 

  
Turning on the sink you wash your hands, they are sticky from cake mix. Red velvet...Or was it vanilla? It doesn't matter this time. You take a glass from the cabinet and pour a glass of water, take a slow, long drink. Your gaze is fixed outside. It's dark outside, but there's the warm glow of streetlights and lights showing in windows, behind blinds and curtains. You take another drink before dumping the remaining water down the sink to wash away the bits of cake mix clinging to the side.

 

  
Under the sink there's carpet cleaner and bleach, you grab the carpet cleaner and taking your time with slow steps to avoid the masses of blood you sprinkle an ample but even amount.

 

  
You are scrubbing the carpet with a thick brush, biting your lip when you have to scrub really hard to get at it or scrunching up your nose as you find a bit of something embedded. It doesn't take as long as you thought it would. Mopping the kitchen is even faster, and less of a workout.

 

  
By 2am everything looks as good as it usually does.

 

  
The knob of the front door jiggles and the lock clicks as Dad walks in. He smiles fondly at you. "John, I'm so proud of you. That took longer than expected and I didn't think I would be back in time before the stain set in."

 

  
You are filled with that happy warmth that bubbles up when Dad praises you. He places his hand on your head and ruffles your hair, kissing for forehead in one of those fatherly ways. "What happened in the kitchen though?" You ask, and he sighs softly before loosening his tie, walking up the stairs. You follow and listen while he explains.

 

  
"I'm sorry, I was careless. I had meant for it to be quick, like they usually are," You nod to him but you know it's a lie. He loves to watch them squirm. Maybe he thinks you'll believe him to be a monster if he tells you the truth. You sit on his bed, kicking your feet lightly as he puts his hat atop the closet with the others and begins unbuttoning his jacket. The white shirt he wears underneath was missing, he must've had to get rid of it. "-however this one..." He smiled and closed his eyes. It was rare to see one have such an effect on him.

 

  
"This one was crafty. Unbound the ropes-" Which Dad knew a lot of knots, he was a scout back in the day and always kept in practice. "-unlocked the basement door. I was mixing a cake for the dear when it made a break for the door, didn't know I was in the kitchen I think. I dropped the bowl in my surprise." You laughed softly.

 

  
You wondered; was it a girl, a boy? How did he find these people? Just how long did they suffer and what tools did he use? Dad never would tell you of course, he was secretive like that and had often pointed you were in no way involved. You could tell no stories because you didn't know any of them. Dad always made sure he practiced his hobby when you were supposed to be away at someone else's house or at school, that everything was clean and he attended school functions and looked as model a father he could be. Nobody would suspect a thing, and if they did John would be safe.

 

  
A good father always keeps his son safe, even when he's not a very good person at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a sudden urge to write and when I started I couldn't stop it from happening. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
